


the only universal language (the one thing about this world)

by Marianne_Dashwood



Series: the hope that you provide [3]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Achievement Hunter Kings, Alternate Universe - Minecraft, Canon-Typical Violence, Childhood Friends, Gen, Graphic Description of Wounds, Hurt/Comfort, Semi-Realistic Minecraft, Serious Injuries, Whump, bad tattooing practices, but badly, enchanting, if you get the title reference you are legally required to read this /j, taking minecraft gameplay and turning into Lore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-16 16:14:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28833984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marianne_Dashwood/pseuds/Marianne_Dashwood
Summary: Five times Matt helped Jeremy after he got injured, and the one time Jeremy did the same for Matt.
Relationships: Matt Bragg & Jeremy Dooley, again like, i don't like writing rpf relationships but if you wanna interpret it that way go right ahead!, slash if you squint - Relationship
Series: the hope that you provide [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2105376
Kudos: 18





	the only universal language (the one thing about this world)

**Author's Note:**

> Lore??? Plot??? what is this??
> 
> Okay I am aware that I am taking minecraft lore and subverting it into my own lore to make the series work. It's my fic and I do what I want, and what I didn't expect was a plot to appear so, well, enjoy? This was supposed to be whump!! that was as deep as it was supposed to be!! I wrote this in a whirlwind and my hands hurt!!!
> 
> Full disclosure, I did kind of steal the idea of That Enchantment Bit (spoilers!) from the fic Rewind by Annonymous (found here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28238295) which I thought was just awesome so I borrowed it and adapted it a bit to fit my own story.

* * *

i.

Jeremy is eight, the size of a six year old, and already has what his grandmother would call “a penchant for trouble”. What she thinks it means is that Jeremy won’t sit still in lessons, constantly seems to have dirt on his face, and a tendency to wear his boots indoors, regardless of where he has been. 

What Jeremy thinks it means, is that he is a bit of a hero. He might not be allowed to use his fathers sword, it’s kept high on top of his grandmother's wardrobe, well out of his reach, but he practices everyday with his rough-hewn wooden sword. 

He’s also pretty good with his fists, but his teacher would call that unruly and disruptive, even though he only ever used it when Oliver and his gang of cronies went to pick on the younger kids. They had tried, thinking his size made him an easy target, until Jeremy gave Danny a bloody nose and got sent home from school. They left him alone after that, except to throw him dirty looks at lunch. His teacher, his grandmother, they all said to just leave it. 

The only thing Jeremy thought he wasn’t very good at (apart from maybe maths), was letting things go. Which is why, on an autumn day that nipped and kissed at any exposed skin with biting wind, Jeremy ends up in front of Oliver and Danny and his friends, as they pause the torment of a kid with his back against the wall. 

There’s papers and books all over the ground, leading in a trail to the boy who is trying to stand on shaky legs. He’s got glasses and long hair, tall where Jeremy is short, but scrawny where Jeremy has muscle. Unfortunately, Jeremy can see why they thought that he would be an easy target. 

“What are you looking at, Dooley?” Oliver asks, raising his fist, “Get out of here or you’re next.”

“Oh, because that went so well for you last time,” Jeremy says, “Leave the kid alone, Oliver. What did he ever do to you, anyway?”

“He looked at me funny,” Danny says, “Thinks he’s better than everyone else,”

“Like you don’t,” Jeremy says, “Throwing your weight around like it’s something to be proud of, the fact that you can beat up a kid half your size? You’re a dick and worse of all, you’re a coward.”

Oliver flushes red in anger, “We’ll see who's a coward, Dooley. There’s no grown-up’s around to save you this time, and I think we deserve a little revenge, don’t we boys?”

Jeremy wasn’t going to back down now, it wasn’t in his nature, but four against one was not going to be fun. 

“I guess you’re all just dying to get broken noses,” Jeremy says, and readies his fists. 

Needless to say, even with a few lucky punches, and all his training with the poor abused trees in the wood beside his home, he wasn’t going to do well against four older and far angrier boys. 

He’s sure there’s a point where he blacks out, because when he next blinks and opens his eyes, he’s on the floor and there is an unfamiliar face looking down at him. 

“Ow,” He says, eloquently. 

“Are, are you okay?” The kid asks, and yeah, this isn’t one of the bullies, this is the kid they were picking on. He’s looking concerned, frowning with worried eyes, “Sorry, that was a stupid question,”

“I’m okay,” Jeremy says, trying to sit up and promptly failing, “I’ve had worse, I promise you.”

With the other boy's help, he eventually sat up and pinches his nose to stop the bleeding. He could taste copper in his mouth, but the world was only slightly blurry in one eye, so he figures he would be alright in the long run. 

“You gave two of them a bloody nose, dude. I’ve never seen anyone do that to those guys,” The boy says, still concerned but now sounding more than a little impressed. 

“Hey, at least I did something,” Jeremy says, wincing as his smile stung his split lip. 

“Here, let me,” The boy says, and he holds up a small handkerchief, gently wiping away the blood on Jeremy’s face, before he pulls out a water skin and yet another handkerchief (Jeremy has never seen anyone under the age of fifty carry one, but apparently this kid did), soaking it and holding it over Jeremy’s eye. He realises it’s bruised when the light pressure stings and he winces.

“Sorry,” The boy says, “It’s just to reduce the swelling. And the blood might cause infection, so I had to remove it,”

Jeremy shakes his head, “Don’t apologise, man, seriously, thanks, man. How do you know to do all this?”

“I read about it,” The boy says, and then, of all things, his jaw tightens and he flinches minutely, as if he expects to get hit for such an innocent remark. Jeremy remembers the books strewn all over the ground, and thinks that he might have a good reason to think so. 

“That’s cool!” Jeremy says, definitively, watching how the other boys eyes widen slightly, “I bet Oliver and that are gonna be much worse off because they don’t have someone who knows all this stuff!”

He grins, and a small smile creeps across the other boy’s face. Jeremy counts it as a victory. 

“Do you want help to get all your books up?” Jeremy asks, indicating the fallen tomes. 

The kid gasps, like he had completely forgotten, “Oh shit, Miss Burton is gonna be so mad I messed up her books!”

“Hey, it’s okay. Miss Burton is cool, she’ll understand if some of them get a bit dirty,” Jeremy says, gathering the books behind him and pulling them into a pile. For what happened, they seem more or less alright, “Yo, dude, a book on enchanting? That’s awesome! I don’t know anything about enchanting, I thought enchanting tables were super rare!”

He hands over the book, smiling encouragingly to the kid, who looks like no one has ever asked him a question about anything he liked in his life. 

“Yeah, they are,” The boy says, shyly, “But there’s one in the city; they said that only the lord can use it but what’s the point if he’s not, right? Can’t other people use it to make things better?”

“Huh,” Jeremy says, “Can’t say I’ve thought about it much,”

“I have,” The kid says, and Jeremy can see how this could be misconstrued as arrogance when all that really shines out of the kids voice is enthusiasm, “And when I go to the city, I wanna build something that lasts.”

“Damn,” Jeremy says, piling the last of the books on top of each other. They’re a mix of topics; as well as the book on enchanting, there’s building and construction, redstone engineering,  _ holy shit _ is that a book about the  _ Nether _ , of all places? “What  _ don’t  _ you know about? It looks like you’ve got the whole library here,” He asks, because despite the care, his face still hurts, and he wants a distraction. 

“I don’t know why a stranger stepped in to stop a fight for someone they’ve never even met,” the boy says, quietly, as shy as he was before now that the topic is no longer about his books. 

“I hate those guys,” Jeremy says, “They pick on anyone they don’t like and not even the adults stop them. I don’t like bullies. I wanna be a knight, or a warrior or something like that when I grow up. Someone who stops bullies. I wouldn’t be much of a knight if I just let them carry on.”

The kid is looking at him with that mix of concern and awe again, and the familiar urge to  _ protect  _ is back. 

“Besides,” Jeremy says, trying to go for a bit of levity, “I’m Jeremy. So we’re not strangers.”

“Matt,” the kid, no, _Matt_ , replies. 

“Nice!” Jeremy says, with perhaps a little too much enthusiasm, considering the way that his vision goes slightly dizzy, “Now we’re friends!”

Matt blinks, eyes widening in surprise, “Friends?”

“Yeah, dude! I beat up the bullies for you, you helped put me back together after, plus you’re like, insanely clever, I’d say that makes us friends,” He held out his hand, and Matt took it, shaking it so formally that Jeremy couldn’t help but laugh. 

“I just wanted some help to stand, man,”

Matt flushes, and helps Jeremy to his feet, but Jeremy makes sure to keep laughing, to rib him gently and let him know that it was a joke. 

Between them, they manage to get Jeremy and all of Matt’s books back to Jeremy’s house. Matt stays even when Jeremy’s grandmother clicks her tongue in dismay at her grandson’s state. He stays for Jeremy to show him where he likes to train, he stays so he can tell Jeremy the stories he remembers about knights and heroes and warriors. He stays until it gets really dark and he has to head home and out into the dark. 

At school the next morning, Oliver and his gang are clearly looking for a reaction. They all still have bruises and cuts in some form or another, and are in a fouler mood than usual. They eye Matt in a way that makes all the other kids avoid him, like they know he has a death sentence on his head. But they slouch off after a while, and Matt turns to find out why. His face is one of relief when he sees Jeremy waving to him enthusiastically, running over to him the moment he spots Matt, and despite the bruises on his face, he still smiles like the sun. 

* * *

ii.

When Matt sees Jeremy on the stretcher, his blood runs cold. He hurries down the castle steps as quick as he can, dumping his books into the hands of a bemused page at the bottom of the stairs so he can hurry across the courtyard faster. As he moves closer, he can see Jeremy moving - good, he appears to be conscious, more than that, conscious and talking to his comrades with good spirits, though they all move away when Matt somes near. 

“Oooh, someone’s in trouble,” One of them mutters, and they splinter off with a laugh and a wave, knowing Jeremy is in capable hands. 

"Maaaaatt,” Jeremy says, which is how Matt knows that he’s not only alright, but they must have given him a very potent healing potion. It still doesn’t stop him fussing though. 

“Jeremy, what the  _ fuck _ ,” Is the first thing out of Matt’s mouth, “It’s only your second time out, how did you fuck up this badly?”

“Joel said I did good!” Jeremy says, and yeah, he is more than a little loopy. Matt sighs. 

“Yeah, you did good buddy. Now can you tell me how you got hurt?”

“Skeletons,” Jeremy replies, “Just off the road, picking off travellers. We had to deal with them.”

Matt sighs again. Fucking skeletons; nasty fuckers, able to use a bow with horrible precision and their arrows often knocked people back before anyone could kill them. He looks down at Jeremy, a victorious look in his eye and half a dozen arrows in his hand. At least one of them is dripping blood.

“Jeremy,” Matt says, and the careless look in Jeremy’s eyes fades a little as he finds himself on the end of a scolding, “Did you try to single handedly try to take down a bunch of skeletons?”

“No,” Jeremy lies, unconvincingly. 

“Jeremy, I swear to god-”

“It was only four of them-”

“ _ FOUR _ ?”

“But the armour helped!” Jeremy says, and begins to shrug off his leather cuirass, gently glowing with faint purple energy, “The experiment worked, Matt!”

“Wait,” Matt says, blinking, “Wait, it worked?”

Jeremy nods, so fast his whole face blurs, “Yeah! Only one of them got me, and it was in the leg; the rest, I’m pretty sure the impact bruised, but not a single one got through the armour!”

“Holy shit,” Matt breathes, “Holy shit, it  _ worked _ !”

It had been a long time since childhood, when they dreamed of being knights and mages. It had been a long time, but somehow they had made it.

The Kingdom Wars had come to their village, and made short and brutal work of it. It wasn’t long after that that they joined with Geoff and the rest, helping to try and make a country that wasn’t so dependent on the rule of the many over the few. They hadn’t been thinking about knights and mages; it was about survival, and Jeremy being able to hold his own against the lords soldiers, somehow rubbing shoulders easily with Geoff’s golden boy and Mogar himself. It was about Matt being able to put redstone traps and TNT together with knowledge that he thought would always stay in his books. 

And they won. They won, and they were there at Geoff’s coronation, when he pulled Matt aside and showed him the enchanting table hidden away years ago, when he took Jeremy outside and introduced him to Joel, the captain of the castle guard who kept saying he was going back to Rooster City but somehow never seemed to. 

Matt wasn’t quite a mage, not when he used the enchanting table with such scientific precision, carefully translating the remaining enchanting books to something understandable and useful. Jeremy wasn’t quite a knight; still only a junior member of the guard, and he had never really enjoyed all that steel plate. Hence the leather, which he had found in the war was much better for him; protecting him from the worst of attacks while giving him the breathability and movement needed for his face to face, often very personal attacks. 

Not quite a mage, not quite a knight, but they were happy. They were still Matt and Jeremy, still the same scrappy kids, with Jeremy ending up injured and Matt chewing him out in front of whoever stuck around to listen. 

And well, the healing potion might have made the hole in Jeremy’s leg already close up into a pink, raised scar, and the enchanted armour might have stopped anything else from getting through, but that wasn’t going to save Jeremy from a scolding. If anything, using experimental armour, with Matt only having loosely translated the enchantment (Projectile Protection, or at least he had really really hoped so), was more dangerous. 

Jeremy grins at him, clearly thinking he dodged a bullet, until Matt whacks him around the back of the head, 

“Ow, what the fuck Matt, I’m an injured man here!”

“Not anymore you’re not, look all healed up to me,” He punches Jeremy in the arm, “Come on, that stretcher could be much better used elsewhere, asshole,”

“For what?” 

“Like for carrying me away after you finally give me a heart attack, dude, you have to stop getting into fights like this!” Just for good measure, he wacks Jeremy in the head again. Maybe he’ll get it through his thick skull this time. 

“I’ll stop getting into fights when you stop patching me up after them,” Jeremy says, sticking out his tongue petulantly. 

“That doesn’t even make sense, surely I would help you after a fight and if you start another one I’ll just have to heal you up after, what are you even talking about?”

Matt holds out a hand, and Jeremy uses it to haul himself up and off the stretcher, and, still bickering, head into their home. 

* * *

iii.

It wasn’t the final battle, but it sure as hell felt like it. The crowd around him was huge, all cheering and screaming and baying for blood and entertainment. But this wasn’t just a fight. It was the fight for the crown. 

The time had come around again; King Jack had clearly been looking forward to hanging up the mantle, and the city had been happily abuzz with travellers from all across the kingdom coming to compete. One of Geoff’s stipulations with the King’s Championship was that anyone over the age of 18 could compete, regardless of rank or position, only that they had to be a citizen of Achieveland, and this year had been bigger than ever before. 

Of course, half the castle itself had been competing; Lindsay and Gavin had been taken out in the first round and bore it in good humour. Ify had been distracted by Fiona and eliminated in the second round, still laughing his ass off. Somehow Alfredo had made it to the third through a combination of pure luck and quick thinking, but ended up on the wrong side of a fight with a zombie pigman, and was now being looked after by Trevor, though Jeremy could swear that he saw his grinning face in the midst of the crowd. With some bad luck, Matt had been knocked out at the beginning of the one v ones, and this morning had seen Jeremy and Michael go head to head, with Jeremy only barely scraping through. 

Now, there were only two fights between the people’s champion and the crown. From the thumbs up, large amounts of flowers draping over her and the huge smile she shot at him from where she was sitting with Jack, Fiona was one of them. 

The other was a stranger. He could produce the necessary documents, and no one had paid him much attention. Until he started winning. And winning. And winning. 

Now there was a complete unknown in the final stages, and honestly, with his fighting style, Jeremy had no idea what would happen. If he lost, there was a likely chance that the crown would go to a stranger, and for the first time since the Kingdom wars, they would be utterly in the dark. 

All Jeremy knew he was clever, and cunning, able to think quickly, and was deadly with whatever weapon was put into his hands. 

This was the stage where they were allowed to choose their own weapons and armour, or one chosen from the castle armoury, rather than just powering through on what they could pick up. It allowed for people to pay to their strengths more, and with the castle's resources open to them, it meant that no one was at a disadvantage. 

The man in front of him was in full netherite, with the same-made sword in his hand and a shield in the other. Hardly any of his face was visible, and even the little of the fight that had past had left him panting as he slowly backed away from Jeremy, sizing him up. 

Jeremy, for his part, was wearing thick leather armour; certainly not as strong as netherite, but it gave him the speed necessary to get in the hits he needed. It helped that his leather was not the normal dark brown, but instead shimmered purple in the afternoon sun. He and Matt had been working on it for weeks, mining the lapis, carefully etching the symbols into the armour before placing it on the enchanting table and letting Matt do his thing. His sword, too, was dark and purple and alight; netherite as well, with the ability to push people away from him a lot further than with his own strength, burning so as to set his opponent ablaze. 

Still, he had never fought with a shield and wasn’t about to start, instead holding out his hand and watching as the enchanted trident flew from where it had impaled on the stranger’s armour, back to his palm. The crowd roared in appreciation, cheering for their champion. 

The stranger feints, looking as if he was going to move back, but instead, he ran straight at Jeremy, his shield in front of him like a battering ram. He only just turns out of the way in time, bringing his sword down fruitlessly on the other’s shield arm. It pushes the man away, and staggered him, giving Jeremy the chance to swipe upwards, and slice a thin cut of exposed skin between the man’s helmet and chestplate. He didn’t hear him react, but he knows that he hadn’t cut deep enough to do any permanent damage. 

Here was the other thing; no regens until the fight was over. Normally, this would be fine; his friends were competitive, of course they were, but everyone knew that there would always be another chance to try for the crown. But the way that the stranger raised his sword to come down on Jeremy borders on wrathful desperation, determination that left all inhibitions at the wayside. 

The protection enchantments take the brunt of the attack, and he sees the stranger wince as Thorns, a particularly nasty little enchantment that Matt only just deciphered, kicks into gear. Still, it doesn’t stop the sword from slicing through part of his armour, leaving a painful wound in his abdomen. 

Gathering his strength, he swipes upwards, blocking with his sword and shooting his trident forward, letting the weapon go as it flies with force into his opponent. He grunts in pain at the impact, staggering back, and Jeremy curses netherite armour; that might have ended the fight right then and there, if he had been wearing literally anything else. 

He follows this up with a flurry of blows, hacking and slashing at the shield that the stranger only just manages to hold up in time. It’s wearing him down. It has to be wearing him down. Gods, Jeremy hopes it’s wearing him down. 

He pauses for a second; just a second, as the wound in his abdomen leaks, gentle, over his armour and the sight of his own blood makes him dizzy, which doesn’t make any sense, he’s been injured much worse than this and kept fighting-

The world goes white for a moment and his head explodes in pain as the hilt of the strangers sword slams into his forehead. Jeremy feels like his brain got knocked from his skull, and he tumbles back, landing on the floor. He only just scrambles away before the sword comes down where his chest would have been. 

The blood in his ears is roaring, and he is trying to get his legs to work but they slip and slide over the sand of the area as if they have forgotten how to be legs. 

Jeremy glances to his wound, and even with the pain pounding in his head, he recognises the dark green liquid along the wound, thinner and dripping faster through the blood and the leather. 

Poison. He's been poisoned. 

It’s nothing he expected; for a start, no one uses potions in the arena, generally tending to focus on either direct combat or amouring up in order to withstand the attacks. It’s not illegal, Geoff never outlawed them, or he would probably have to outlaw having enchantments on items in the championships and there goes half of Jeremy and Matt’s fun. No, no one has ever used a potion like this before, for two unspoken reasons. First, it makes for a shitty show. Half of the draw of the championships is that it is a festival, and you’re meant to be courting the people as much as they are sizing you up and seeing if you are the kind of king they want. 

Second, as Jeremy realises with dawning horror, there’s a much higher chance of fatal injury. 

All Jeremy can see of the stranger’s face is his smile, as he raises the sword. Jeremy opens his palm, and hopes the trident comes in time. 

“Lesson learned, I hope,” The stranger says. The last thing Jeremy sees is a glimmering flash of blue heading straight towards his opponents back, and then the whole world goes black. 

It feels like he only blinks, before his eyes open again, but he knows he’s not where he was a moment ago. There’s a horrible taste in his mouth, a combination between milk and apple juice and he can’t help but splutter, coughing as he bends over and spits out whatever the fuck that was. 

“Jeremy!” Matt’s voice, alarmed, Matt’s hand gentle on his back, Matt who is holding up a glass of milk to his mouth and has half a golden apple next to him. 

He gently pats Jeremy’s back as he coughs, blinking back tears from the force of it, before he offers the milk to him again. Seeing as Jeremy still feels a bit woozy, he accepts, but waves away the apple. 

“Dude,” He says, once he has some breath back in his body, “Apples and milk is not a good combination.”

“It’s a good combination when it is keeping you alive, you moron! You know you can’t have regen potions when your body is that weak! You were turning green! ”

Jeremy rolls his eyes, “Oh please tell me Gav didn’t see that, he’ll never let me live it down,”

“Jeremy,” Matt’s voice is deadly serious, his free hand tightening on Jeremy’s shoulder, “You nearly fucking died.”

“I didn’t, though,” Jeremy says, placing his hand over Matt’s, a moment of tender care that he doesn’t always show his put-upon best friend, “I’m fine. And I’ll know for next time, cos, well, I’m assuming I didn’t win.”

“You passed out the moment your trident connected with him, great shot, by the way, so even though he got knocked to the ground you still technically lost. He only has to fight Fiona now.”

“Then we better make sure she’s on the lookout for poisons. He won’t be getting away with the same trick twice,” Jeremy makes to get out of bed, but Matt grabs his arm with a free hand. 

“The others want to know you’re okay, but, just,” He looks unsure, and only for a moment, he’s the same kid that Jeremy saved from a pack of bullies, “Just rest for a moment. You put your body through a lot. Give it five minutes.”

Jeremy isn’t great at words, but he stops, and leans into Matt’s side, hoping that action says all that he can’t say himself. 

“Sure, dude,” Jeremy says, as Matt wraps an arm around his shoulders to keep him upright, “I’ll give it five. I wanna make sure I can watch Fiona ass-kick this guy into the g round tomorrow.”

* * *

iv.

Matt has always hated it when Jeremy rode out. Before he was the captain of the guard, back when they were just a bunch of revolutionaries hiding in coves, he hated being stuck behind making traps while the rest of his friends went off to fight. He’s not a bad fighter, but he knows that they need him more alive, and that he’s no use to anyone if he ends up dead in a small scuffle. 

Still, he hates watching as Jeremy led the rest of the guard out of the city gates and deep into the wilderness. 

No, that hadn’t changed. It was everything else that had. 

Geoff and Jack were gone; fled, as the new king’s first royal proclamation was to banish all previous kings, and suddenly two of the people he looked up to most were hunted within the city that they had built themselves. Fiona went underground; she wasn’t planning to become a fugitive like her father, but she wasn’t going to wait until the king decided to kill the one who had nearly killed him. Gods, Fiona had gotten  _ so  _ close, and that on it’s own would sting, even without the fact that the new king was a massive bastard. 

Then Matt woke up one day, and Michael and Lindsay were gone. Exiled, same as Jack and Geoff, and Gavin refused to speak to either him or Jeremy. 

That was the worst of all. In the privacy of their chambers, Jeremy ranted and raved and nearly was out of his mind with worry for his friends. In public, however, the king curled his hand over Matt’s shoulder, told him how impressed he had been with the enchantments on Jeremy’s armour, and kept him working for days on end on decoding and exploring even more powerful and rare enchantments. 

Whenever Jeremy came for him, to try and get him to go to sleep, to get some rest, or just to try and relax without the stress of suddenly dealing with the hostility of a place that had been their home, the king was there. Waiting. 

It was a clear threat, and even more so when he promoted Jeremy to captain of the guard. Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer. With Jeremy now publicly, in a large ceremony, sworn to the throne and the crown, there was nothing he could really do. With Matt as the king's hostage in all but name, there was nothing either of them could do to help their friends, as much as they both wanted it. 

There was nothing they could do to stop Jeremy being sent out on an escort mission to find more lapis, even if it was down one of the most dangerous mines that had been closed off for a reason. 

Matt was helpless. He  _ is  _ still helpless, stuck watching and waiting for Jeremy to come back like some princess in a tower. Except he can’t even do that, being forced instead to remain in the laboratory of the palace, surrounded by armour and weapons and trying to make the symbols in front of him make sense. 

The only thing that does make sense is that, the moment he hears any kind of commotion upstairs, he’ll run straight for it. It can only mean one thing, now that the castle is so quiet without its former inhabitants.  _ Jeremy is back _ .

He sprints for the stairs, and this, at least, is familiar, rushing to meet Jeremy after he gets back, his mind imagining all of the terrible things that could have happened to his friend. 

When a servant catches him and points him in the direction of the infirmary, those scenarios only get worse. 

He hears snatches when he arrives -  _ dragged back by his horse, only survivor, it’ll be a miracle if he pulls through with all the blood he’s lost, we’ve done all we can, I’m sorry -  _

Matt ignores them all and goes straight to Jeremy’s side. He’s pale and when Matt takes his hand, it’s ice cold. Jeremy’s face is drawn, green and purple bruises around the outline of his helmet, like it got bashed about. There’s a thick bandage around his torso that’s already turning a slow burgundy. He doesn’t stir when Matt takes his hand, or when Matt tries to talk about anything and everything. 

Jeremy is quiet, and it’s so unlike him that it breaks Matt a little more every second he spends with him. All he can do is watch the shallow rise and fall of Jeremy’s chest, the low sounds of his hitching breath as it caught in his lungs. The hours drag on, and Jeremy doesn’t get better. If anything, his breath gets weaker, and his body expends even more effort to keep him breathing. 

All of the mages and healers kept a wide berth, especially as it slips into the early hours of the morning; it’s not like Jeremy was in any state to take potions. If anything, they would kill him quicker. No, all Matt can do is sit and wait, and he  _ hates  _ it. 

Matt doesn’t know what to do. All the books he’s read, all he’s learned over the years, all of it is useless in the face of his best friend, who is  _ dying _ . And Matt can’t do anything to help. 

But he can’t just sit there, either. He can’t sit still and just wait until his friend breathes his last. 

His mind drifts to his lab; to his books and his enchanting table and to histories of experiments long forgotten. 

A memory of a single line in an old old book, and it might not even work but Matt freezes, running over the options in his mind. 

He could sit here and do nothing, and Jeremy would definitely die. 

He could go and do something really, really reckless, and Jeremy only  _ might  _ die. 

Matt already knows which option he was going to take. He might never do this if Jeremy was awake, but he presses a kiss to the top of his head. 

“I’m going to save you,” He says, with as much conviction as he can muster, “I promise.”

He slips out of the room, and no one notices as he runs to the laboratory. He normally hates it, poisoned by the king as it was now, but now Matt never wants to get anywhere else faster. Every second feels like it could be Jeremy’s last, as he rushes about trying to collect exactly which books he needs, trying to crush lapis into dust, and trying to figure out if his insane idea will even work. 

It might, says the history books, but it has not been done for a long time, and may have unintended side effects. 

Matt will take side-effects over dead. 

It takes less than an hour to collect everything that he thinks he needs, but it stretches on like an age, and when he finally arrives back in the infirmary room, he’s half expecting Jeremy to be already gone. 

“Thank fuck,” He says, when he sees Jeremy’s chest rise and fall; still choked, still shaky, but still breathing. 

He lays out what he needs; book, crushed lapis, a rough translation and his careful redrawing of the enchantment mark. Matt has to steel himself when he grabs a tray of horrible looking medical devices. His hands shake when he takes what he needs.This is for Jeremy. Even if it doesn’t work, at least he tried. 

Last but not least, he takes a knife to Jeremy’s bandages. He lets them fall away and tries not to gag as the gaping wound reveals itself. It’s been clumsily sewn shut, but blood is still leaking, and Matt can feel the fever-heat from it when he pulls the bandages off. 

This is the source, and so it only makes sense that he applies straight to the source, as close as possible without it actually making it even worse. 

He takes a deep breath. He settles his hand on Jeremy’s chest, feels the fluttering, weak pulse under his fingertips. 

“I’m going to save you,” He says again, and begins to outline the mark. He’s had enough practice recarving the symbol into the shafts of axes and swords, into the metal of armour. In comparison, flesh is soft and easy. Even as he drives the crushed lapis into his friends skin, it’s too easy. 

Matt forces himself to focus on the task in front of him, to let his breath even out and fall into that headspace of working that he often hides in these days. He tries to keep the thought that enchanting a person is very, very different to enchanting an object. It was never supposed to be used like this. There’s no telling what it could do to Jeremy. 

But Jeremy needs it. He needs  _ mending _ . 

Of all the enchantments, Matt supposes as he carves the final line, it’s most likely the safest. 

When he is done, he’s wrung out, exhausted. Dawn is creeping in through the windows, and it hurts Matt’s eyes. But he wipes away the last of the blood from the makeshift tattoo, and prays. 

He thought of everything. He had to have thought of everything, because if he didn’t, Jeremy was dead. He had the symbol, the lapis, what else would he -?

The table. The obsidian.  _ Fuck. _

He springs from the chair, hands covered in blood and sweat and he runs, he runs faster than he ever has before. He doesn’t know how he’s going to get the table up the stairs and out of the lab, but he shouldn’t need anything else, mending is a basic enchantment. 

He’s never tried to pick up the enchanting table before, and is surprised and relieved when it turns out to be a hell of a lot lighter than he ever expected. Especially considering it was made of obsidian. 

(Quietly, the wind blows through the castle, and says, gentle,  _ rise) _

Matt takes it and runs. The castle is starting to wake, but he doesn’t seem to pass anyone, only hearing the brief snatches of morning conversations. Even if he did, he would have taken no notice of them. 

He bursts into the infirmary, which is thankfully still empty, and practically slams down the table as close to the bed as he can get it. 

“Please,” He says, panting, pleading, praying with every single breath he pulls into his protesting lungs, “Please, please work. Fuck,  _ please _ .”

Jeremy exhales, sharp, harsh. Silence reigns. 

Jeremy does not inhale. 

_ No, no, no, no,  _ Matt thinks, and becomes aware that he’s saying it too, “No, no, no, no, Jeremy, Jeremy, come on buddy, come on, please, please don't do this to me. Don’t leave me here,  _ please _ .”

There’s a gentle light, and in his exhaustion Matt can’t tell whether it’s the sun or the table, and he  _ hopes _ . 

There’s a gasp, a choking inhale, and Jeremy shudders. He no longer has the same pallor to his skin, and his breathing settles, still shallow but less harsh, less broken. The wound under the bandage, even with the amatur tattoo, already looks stronger, healthier. The bleeding has stopped. 

Jeremy is alive. 

_ Jeremy is alive.  _

Matt lets out a shuddering sigh, and takes Jeremy’s hand once more, pressing the now warm skin to his forehead. Jeremy’s pulse beats, weak but steady, under his fingers. He knows he needs to clean up. Take the table and the crushed lapis back to the lab, keep all of this from the King. He needs to get rid of as much evidence as he can and try to make sure that no one notices that Jeremy got a tattoo overnight. Matt doesn’t even want to think about what the king would do if he knew about this. But Jeremy is alive, and yes, he’ll still need time to heal, he still could be at the mercy of unintended side-effects, but he is alive.

And right now, Matt sits and basks in the presence of his best friend, both of them warm in the dawn’s early light. 

* * *

v.

When Jeremy wakes up, he is alone. The street is empty, and his head hurts like a motherfucker, but he’s alone.  _ Thank the gods _ .

He meets with his men, explains his situation. They don’t ask questions, just nod and begin to head back to the castle. He waves off their concerns, and the moment he gets back, like so many times before, he finds himself in front of the door of the only person he can trust in this city. 

Matt is groggy when he opens the door, but his eyes widen as he takes in Jeremy’s state. 

“What happened?” He hisses, pulling Jeremy into the room, “Why haven’t you gone to the infirmary?” 

“They’ll ask what happened,” Jeremy replies, his words slurring a little and okay, that’s not a good sign. Matt is already digging deep through his chests for any potions, and lets out a quiet cry of victory when he pulls out a small and dusty health potion. 

“That’ll get rid of the concussion, but I’m still gonna have to bandage this properly.  _ What happened?”  _ Matt asks again, as he hands the potion to Jeremy to drink. 

“Trevor,” Jeremy says, grimacing at the taste and at the sudden jolt that Matt does while he’s inspecting the wound to the back of his head. It must have already started healing somewhat, thanks to his new tattoo, because Matt lets out a sigh of relief. Out of all the side-effects that Matt had listed as a possibility, Jeremy could live with slightly faster healing. 

“Trevor?” Matt asks, incredulous. 

“I asked him too,” Jeremy explains, in a low voice, “We were sent for them, for the twins. Thank the gods I got to them first.”

“ _ Fuck _ ,” Matt says, and Jeremy isn’t sure whether it’s about their situation or his injury, as Matt begins to tie a bandage tightly around his head. At least he doesn’t have any hair getting in the way, “They okay?”

“Yeah,” Jeremy says, “At least, last I saw them. They said they were going to join Geoff and the others, that Fiona told them where to go.”

“...They didn’t tell you?” Matt asks.

“I don’t think they trusted me until I told them to knock me out. That way I would have a cover story.”

“Smart,” Matt says, “But I’d prefer cover stories that didn’t end in you getting concussion.”

“I was thinking on the fly, you can’t blame me for this.”

Matt snorts, “Yeah, I’m absolutely gonna blame you for this.”

They fall silent. The pain is making Jeremy dizzy, and the potion instills a strange, slightly giddy feeling that makes his thoughts taste like cotton. Finally, Jeremy takes a deep breath, and says, in a voice that’s almost quieter than a whisper, “Are we doing the right thing? Staying?”

“We don’t really have any other option,” Matt says, frowning. 

“If we tried, we could,” Jeremy says, “Matt, we could go. Find the others. Be  _ safe _ .”

Matt sighs, “Jer, the others are currently the most wanted fugitives in the kingdom. Safety is relative.”

“I know, it’s just…” Jeremy lets out a deep breath, “I worry about you, Matt.”

“ _ What _ ?” That was the last thing Matt expected, if his sharp inhale was anything to go by. 

“Spending all that time stuck in a laboratory with him, being forced to research gods-know what, and I’m 99% sure that nothing he’s cooking up there with your expertise is good,” Jeremy says, “Never mind that if I put a toe out of line, it’s your life on the line.”

“Jeremy,” Matt ties the bandage, and turns Jeremy around to face him, “It isn’t just about me. The people look up to you, they know you’re doing your best to keep them safe. When the others come back, they’ll need you to rally the people, be the army on the inside.” 

Jeremy nods, slow. He knows Matt is right, but he still hates it, still hates this horrible feeling of helplessness that he has felt far too often lately. Matt must see it in his eyes, because his voice becomes soft, careful.

“I do want to go. Sometimes, it’s all I can think about. The things he makes me do, what he makes me research… It scares me, Jeremy, you’re right, none of it will be used for good. But I’m far too valuable to him, if I leave with you, anywhere I go and anyone I’m with will be in danger. He won’t stop until I’m brought back,” Matt sighs, and shakes his head, “But I won’t stop you, Jeremy. If you want to go, go. Don’t worry about me. Any kind of escape attempt, I’d only slow you down. You’re already in enough danger because of me.”

“I’m not leaving you!” Jeremy says, something snapping deep inside him and echoed in the ferocity of his voice, “I won’t leave you, Matt. Not when we’re surrounded by bullies. Not when you risked everything to save my life. I’m not leaving you; not now, not ever. If you’re staying, then I’m staying.”

Matt doesn’t appear to know quite what to say to that, so instead he simply presses their foreheads together, and says a gentle, breathless, “ _ Thank you _ .”

And Jeremy thinks, giddy and dizzy and definitely still in pain, maybe it’s gonna be alright. 

* * *

vi.

Matt’s eyes feel like wood, and it’s a fight to open them, and even worse to squint as the bright light of day hits him. 

He lets out a quiet groan, the sound scraping his throat. His neck is as stiff as anything, but he slowly turns his head. When he sees Jeremy, sitting there with his head in his hands, he tries to say something. 

His tongue feels like cardboard, so all he gets out is a breathless, “ _ Jer… _ ”

It’s enough. Jeremy jumps, sees Matt is awake and immediately grabs his hands, squeezing them with what must be enough force to break them. 

“Matt,” He says, like he can’t quite believe he’s there, “ _ Matt _ .”

Then, he promptly bursts into tears. 

Matt has never seen Jeremy cry before, not like this, not for him. He reaches out an unsteady hand, and Jeremy grasps it like a lifeline, hiccuping and trying to choke back his sobs. Matt still doesn’t have enough breath in his lungs to form words, even if he could bear the roughness in his throat, so he just sits there and gently strokes his thumb over the back of Jeremy’s hand. He really hopes either his memory comes back or Jeremy will tell him what the hell happened to him. 

Eventually, Jeremy’s tears taper off, and he wipes his eyes with the back of his hand, even though there are plenty of unshed tears just waiting to fall.

“Do,” He starts, shakily, “Do you remember what happened?”

Matt just shakes his head, opening his mouth to ask but all that comes out is a faint rasp. 

“Shit, right,” Carefully, Jeremy lifts Matt’s head and helps him to take a few small sips of water, “Sorry, I’m not… I’m not used to taking care of you like you do. I’m not good yet.”

“It’s okay,” Matt says, coughing, but at least his throat doest feel like it has razors embedded in it anymore, “It’s alright, Jeremy.”

“It’s not alright!” Jeremy says, tears spilling over once more, “This is all my fault!”

“Hey, hey,” Matt says, trying to calm Jeremy with a squeeze to his hand, “Whatever happened, it wasn’t your fault. Tell me what happened, and I’ll make up my own mind. Even though I  _ know  _ it wasn’t your fault.”

Jeremy hiccups, and looks away from Matt. 

“I hadn’t seen you in days,” Jeremy says, guilt lacing every part of his voice, “I kept trying to find you, but they kept me so busy with the guard, I… anyway, I managed to sneak away eventually, went down to the lab, it was the only place I hadn’t been able to look yet. And when I did, I found-” He cuts himself off, tears trickling down his cheeks. 

The memory slams into Matt with the force of a thousand tons, and  _ oh  _ **_god_ ** .

_ “I know what you did to your friend.” _

_ “Your majesty?” _

_ “That little trick with the enchantment. It’s very interesting. It is particularly interesting how you didn’t even think to inform your king of this development.” _

_ “Y-your majesty, I-” _

_ “I’m not interested in your excuses, Matthew. I only need your answer. So, do I call your friend down here and try and work out exactly how his body has bonded with the magic, or would you like to volunteer in his place?” _

_ “...” _

_ “That’s what I thought. Get yourself on the table, and don’t struggle.” _

_ The cold hard back of the enchanting table digging into his back, rough ropes scratching at his wrists and fuck, he’s not even going to knock him out as the king approaches with a wicked glint in his eyes and a small hammer and crushed lapis in his hand. The king doesn’t have Matt’s steady hand, or the practice that he has with carving the enchantments. Every stroke is crude, careless, and the moment the metal touches his skin all Matt knows is painhurt _ **_agony-_ **

“I had to get you out of there,” Jeremy says, bringing him back to the present, “I wasn’t thinking, I just, I just ran.”

_ Someone jostling him, it hurts it hurts it hurts but there’s no point voicing it because it’s not like He’ll listen, he lets out a involuntary groan and a voice that edges on familiar gently shushes him, and when he pries open his eyes Jeremy is above him, and above Jeremy is the expanse of the night sky. It’s open and beautiful and reminds Matt of better times, before the championship, before the war, before they even came to the city.  _

_ Dark shadows break his line of sight to the sky, and he comes to realise they are trees. They’re out. They’re out of the city, and Matt goes to take a sigh of relief, it hurts but Jeremy is here and they're out, they’re safe- _

_ Pain laces across his chest, flames racing in his veins, the worst agony Matt has ever felt and he  _ **_screams-_ **

“We were only just outside of the border of the city and then you just starting screaming, you were in pain and you didn’t stop, and there was nothing I could do to help and you didn’t stop  _ screaming _ ,” Jeremy sounds haunted, like the memory of his best friend in pain has never left in the entire time he’s been waiting by Matt’s beside. It most likely hasn’t, “They found us after that. I don’t understand why he hasn’t thrown me in the dungeon, but I suppose he thinks that having to sit for a week while I wait to see whether you’re going to live or die is a worse punishment.” 

Matt’s blood runs cold. He’s been like this for a  _ week _ . Jeremy has been here, watching over him, for an entire week, and Matt just slept, drifting in unconsciousness while his friend has been suffering, thinking the whole thing was somehow his doing. 

“It’s not your fault,” Matt says, “Jeremy, you know this wasn’t your fault, right?”

“He must have seen it,” and Matt instinctively knows he’s talking about the enchantment on Jeremy’s torso, “He must have seen it and realised and that’s why he took you, and if I hadn’t gotten hurt in the first place you wouldn’t have had to even do anything. If I hadn’t dragged you into the Kingdom Wars, if I hadn’t made you come to the city with me, all of it, you would be safe, you would be  _ safe _ , Matt.”

“No,” Matt says, without really knowing what else is going to come out of his mouth, “Jeremy, no. Don’t you dare do this to yourself. I chose this. Even,” He swallows, forcing down the echoing memory of the pain, “Even after what happened, even after what put me here, I chose this. I’d choose you every time. I wouldn’t ever take a life of safety over you, Jer. Never.  _ This wasn’t your fault _ .”

“Do you even know what he did to you?” Jeremy asks, quiet, wrecked, his eyes flicking to Matt’s chest. Matt pulls the blankets off, and inhales sharply. 

Even upside down, he knows that pattern, he knows that marking; he can even recognise the aborted attempts at other enchantments,outlines with the wrong translations or the symbols that are slightly wrong. But there is only one that is gently glowing, purplish light spilling out from under the skin over his heart. 

“A curse of binding...” Matt says, breathing out slowly. Well. It explains why he can no longer apparently go beyond the city walls. 

“We should have left,” Jeremy says, and his voice is wretched, hopeless, and it’s a tone that previously Matt would have thought of as impossible to hear in his friends voice, “Before, we should have left. I should have dragged you with me and damn the consequences. Then you wouldn’t be trapped here.” 

Matt summons every ounce of his strength, and pushes himself upwards. His limbs scream at him, the ache in his chest flares, but he ignores it all as he wraps Jeremy in a tight hug. 

“You can still go,” Matt whispers, even though he already knows Jeremy’s answer, even though he feels tears soak into his shoulder, “He’ll be out for you now, you should go.”

“Fuck off,” Jeremy says wetly, with no force at all, “Of course I’m not leaving. I told you before, didn’t I? You stay, I stay,” His voice is strange, muffled though Matt’s shoulders, but the words are clear and true and Matt holds onto his friend for dear life, “Whatever happens, at least we’ll get through it together.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi over at @MJDashwood on twitter or marianne-dash-wood.tumblr.com :D


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